


Summer Boy

by mssdare



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Sweetheart, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Summer Romance, X-Men Big Bang Challenge, focus on disability, reference to past childhood abuse (not explicit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssdare/pseuds/mssdare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is working as a busboy in a beach bar. He hates the tourists, he hates the bar, and most of all he hates himself and the past from which he’s trying to escape. The only person there who seems more miserable than Erik is a boy in a wheelchair, sitting there all day reading books and sweating in the unforgiving summer heat. </p><p>My X-Men Big Bang 2016 (round 4) entry. Go see all the entries <a href="http://xmenbigbang.livejournal.com">HERE</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radkoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radkoko/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Moment of Freedom (from Summer Boy)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747625) by [radkoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radkoko/pseuds/radkoko). 



> Thank you Sillygoose for betaing, Red for prereading and helping me out with medical details, and my Twitter girls for cheerleading.
> 
> Check out [ the most sunshiny art ever that radkoko has done for this story!!!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6747625)  
> Many thanks to Afrocurl for running this fest!

ERIK tied the trash sack and hauled it up to take it out back to the shed by the road. He didn’t have to check his phone to tell the time. Families were slowly trickling off the beach for siesta in the shade, while slightly sunburnt tourist boys were heading towards the bar for beer refills. That meant it was about noon, and Erik had at least another six hours left in his shift.

He scowled at a girl in a ridiculously small red bikini who laughed too loudly for his liking, and went back behind the bar to wash the cocktail blenders. Two guys were talking to Angel, who was tending bar; their crude remarks and suggestive leers were making Erik want to punch something. He knew better than to intervene, though. Angel was more than capable of handling this herself. She flashed them a sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes but always earned her good tips, and handed out their drinks. A blonde girl with long hair who was next in the line was eying Erik intently.

Angel turned and leaned down to whisper into Erik’s ear, “You know, if you only stopped being such a stuck-up princess you’d maybe even get laid.” Her accent made it sound as if she meant ‘late.’ “This one looks like she’d eat you.”

Erik just shot Angel a look. True, he knew he was an attractive guy. If he wanted he could have a new conquest every week, what with the incomers desperate for attention and eager for easy fun, but he wasn’t interested in screwing spoiled tourist girls, thank you very much. He was here, in this hellish upscale seaside place near Saint Tropez, only temporarily. This was nothing but a stop on his way until he’d earned enough to move further west. Soon he’d put behind him the beaches and huge hotels on the horizon and all the loud people. For now, he had to endure. At least the monotonous job didn’t require much of Erik’s attention. It was mostly just a rinse and repeat of repetitive actions. He could focus on his surroundings, not that he was particularly keen on doing so, as most people irritated him with their obnoxious ways. He longed for solitude and peace, but meanwhile he catalogued the behaviors of various groups of foreigners while he kept cleaning and preparing food, in case he needed to act like them in the future to blend in. Years of confinement in a juvenile correctional institution had left Erik with a lot of catching up to do in social situations.

He turned away from the blonde beauty to look at a young man in a wheelchair instead, who was sitting in the shaded area of the bar, his nose deep in a book. It was his third day in a row here, Erik observed. He couldn’t get why anyone would want to sweat on a beach reading, but it wasn’t the first time he saw people doing inexplicable things, so he just shrugged and went on with his business.

He was cutting papayas and mangos for smoothies when he heard a huffing sound followed by a dull thumping of flesh on metal. He looked up to see that the guy in the wheelchair was punching the side of his chair, clearly struggling with a latch. And Erik didn't really care, not really. He had no desire to interact with any of the tourists. But the guy had been so polite earlier when he’d wheeled himself over for a pineapple wine cooler, and then so unobtrusive, sitting silently and reading his thick book, that Erik didn’t have the heart to leave him alone in his struggle.

He went over to the tables and knelt next to the guy. “May I?”

The guy looked at him, flushed. He had a boyish, young face, but he must have been about Erik’s age—eighteen, maybe a bit more; it was hard to tell with those soft features. Up close the guy’s eyes were the most incredible translucent blue, putting the waters of the bay to shame.

“I think that the sand doesn't agree much with this mechanism,” he said, his voice apologetic. “I was told I should get a more ‘sporty’ one if I wanted to attend beaches and such, but it just seemed so excessive.”

The latch for the brake was totally jammed indeed, and Erik couldn’t do much without some tools. “Be right back,” he said, walking to the back of the bar to fetch a screwdriver. When he came back the boy was even more flustered than before.

“Thank you. I'm so sorry. It wasn't wise of me to come here at all. I hate causing trouble.”

“That's no trouble at all,” Erik said, smiling despite himself. He fumbled with the latch until it gave and the brake was unlocked. “All done.”

“Charles? Is everything all right?” asked the blonde girl who’d tried flirting with Erik earlier. She came up on the deck dripping water.

“Yes, yes. No need to worry, Raven! It was just some problem with the brake, but it’s all handled now thanks to…?” The boy looked at Erik expectantly, making Erik frown.

“Erik,” he said.

“Thanks to Erik, here. I’m Charles!” He smiled so brightly that it almost took Erik’s breath away for a second. It was as if Erik had been exposed to direct sunlight after being kept in a dungeon for weeks. He wanted to slap himself to get a grip. He wasn’t used to being charmed like this.

“Are you sure you’re all right, though?” the girl asked. “You look a bit flushed. Do you want to get back to the villa?” The question was directed towards the guy, but she kept watching Erik with slightly narrowed eyes.

“I’m fine, really. Go on swimming! I’ll just…” Charles put his hands on the wheels but made no move to go anywhere.

“You should really come swimming with me,” Raven said. “It’d do you good. The water’s super warm! You’d love it. And they have a ramp and a special floating chair.”

“Maybe later.” Charles bit his lip, drawing Erik’s attention to how beautifully full and obscenely red his mouth was. Christ, Erik really knew better than to ogle strangers on a beach. He stood up and went back to work without a word.

He heard Charles say. “Really, little sis, don’t worry. I’m good here.”

 

*

CHARLES was sitting in the middle of a supermarket, waiting for Raven to finish their grocery shopping for tonight so they could finally, _finally_ go home. He’d picked the bread and wine and cheese—his contribution to the shopping—and now he could only wait until Raven was done with her part.

He felt miserable. His chair was dripping because the external catheter he’d used for the beach had slipped and some of the urine had pooled.

He was very tired and he needed to lie down.

He was also resigned in that detached way that made him feel as if he weren’t inside his own body. But there was nothing that he could do now to stop the trickling of piss and it wasn’t like he hadn’t endured much more humiliating situations in the past. He’d already learned that stoicism was the best attitude in his case.

Raven was still deliberating over the veggies, so Charles sighed and leaned on an armrest, rubbing his temple absently. The faint smell of urine was making him want to hurl. He wanted a bath. He wanted to be out of here. He wanted to lie down. He wanted to be home instead of this place. He wanted so many things that he didn’t even know where to start.

He guessed his stoicism had gone to fuck itself, after all.

Mercifully, Raven was done picking out green sprouts and zucchini and was now proceeding to the cashier, so there was at least some hope of getting back to the villa soon.

“Hi,” said a voice that Charles recognized as belonging to the hot guy from the beach. Erik.

Charles felt the heat of embarrassment flaming his cheeks. Erik, so tall and handsome with his defined jaw, white teeth, and stunning greenish eyes, so perfectly formed and agile, was just about the last person Charles would want to encounter in his incriminating situation.

“Hello,” he said, trying to smile.

He thought of this morning when his chair had bloody jammed. He’d been on the verge of hysteria then, wanting to punch that fucking frame until the latch came free, but he knew better than to struggle so hard he’d topple over. God, falling out of the chair was the ultimate humiliation for Charles. Having to crouch and pull himself back up wasn’t something he was keen on going through again. Thankfully, he was getting better with all his mobility issues, and the last time he’d fallen out of his chair was during the winter, when he and Alex had both gotten pissed out of their brains and toppled over in the snow, laughing their lungs off and swearing at the same time. But that had been different. Both he and Alex were paraplegic, while here he was facing a freaking walking young Adonis, a man he wouldn’t stand a chance with even before the accident.

Erik frowned. It seemed like frowning was his default expression. “Are you all right?” he asked, and for a moment Charles felt a strong wave of irritation that he tried to stifle. It wasn’t other people’s fault that he was fed up with that particular question. No, he wasn’t _all right_. No, there wasn’t anything that he needed. Except peace and maybe home. And being as he once was.

“Yes,” he said calmly instead. “Just waiting for my sister to finish shopping.”

“Okay, then,” Erik said. “I’ll leave you to it. I need to finish mine too.”

Charles glanced inside Erik’s basket where a baguette, a carton of milk, and a sack of potatoes were rolling sadly. He wondered if that was what Erik was having for dinner, or was he only making a prejudiced assumption based on the state of Erik’s clothing and his duties in the beach bar? Erik was turning away, and perhaps it was the way Erik glanced into the cart next to Charles that was filled up to the brim with things he and Raven would surely not be able to consume even within their remaining three weeks here, or perhaps it was a moment of insanity on his part and Charles forgetting that he wasn’t his flirty, self-assured self anymore, but whatever it was, something made Charles say, “Maybe you’d like to join us for dinner tonight?”

Stunned with himself, he smiled sheepishly at Erik and waited, his heart pounding and his hands suddenly sweating.

“What?” Erik asked, his eyes widening. He looked as surprised as Charles felt.

“Well, I’m sure you have better plans, but I’m here with just my little sister and I’d love some company before she drives me completely mad.”

Erik opened his mouth to reply and then paused, as if considering Charles’s offer for real.

“Wouldn’t she mind, though?” he asked. “I’d hate to intrude.”

“Actually…” Charles grinned. “Actually, I think she’d be delighted to have someone new besides me to tease.”

“Okay. Sure,” Erik said in a way that sounded like _I can’t believe I’m doing this_.

Charles recited the directions to the villa, and then watched as Erik strolled away, wondering how he’d explain to Raven that a stranger would be joining them tonight. He proceeded to the cash register.

“Are you mad, Charles?” Raven fumed, stepping violently on the gas pedal and making the car jump. She wasn’t used to manual transmission, but for some inexplicable reason she was too stubborn to rent an automatic in France. “He could be anyone! He could be a thief. Or a rapist. He could be a murderer, for all that we know!”

Charles shook his head. His discomfort had turned into a headache that was getting worse by the minute, and he wasn’t fit to argue with Raven, especially since she was probably right. But it was too hard to admit to Raven that for once he just wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t a nurse, or a doctor, or another patient. Someone who didn’t know the pre-accident Charles and wouldn’t compare the half-of-a-man he was now to his fun, flirty, social persona of a year and a half ago.

“Maybe he’s a pirate,” he said, to tease Raven.

“Charles,” she said warningly.

“I think you’re exaggerating,” he told her. “Besides, it’s not like you can’t handle him if he tries something.”

“So comforting, Charles.” Raven scowled and left Charles alone for the rest of their journey home, where he could finally have some painkillers and his long-deserved shower.

 

*

ERIK stood in front of the door to one of the summer villas with exclusive apartments situated behind a high fence full of flowers. He was clutching a bag with small chocolate pastries he’d brought for dessert, since he couldn’t afford a decent wine that would please rich tourists, and he felt completely out of place. What was he thinking? Or more accurately, why wasn’t he thinking? Were expressive blue eyes and a charming smile really enough to make him behave as if he was lacking a very important part of his brain responsible for lucid decision-making? He still had time to turn away and go back to the room he rented out from Azazel, the bar’s manager. But if he was honest with himself, he longed for an air-conditioned place and a good meal. So he guessed surviving an evening with tourists would actually be a decent bargain in exchange for a full, freshly made dinner.

He pressed the button for the videophone and was instructed to go inside the elevator. “I’ll call you up,” said a female voice.

The elevator was all marble floor and mirrored walls, and Erik checked his outfit once more. He was wearing dark jeans, faded a bit from the sun, a grey Foo Fighters T-shirt, and his usual flip-flops. He hoped it would be good enough. These were his best clothes anyway, so it wasn’t like he had much choice.

The elevator door opened straight into the hall of the apartment.

“Come in,” someone called from somewhere inside.

He proceeded inside to the living room full of comfy furniture and fancy lamps, and then to a white and shiny kitchen where Charles’s sister was stirring something in a huge pan. She waved a wooden spoon to acknowledge his entrance.

“Hi,” she said, finally looking away from the food and giving Erik the once-over.

“Here.” Erik extended the bag of pastries to her. “It’s something for dessert.” He didn’t really know the protocol for a visit. He had been eight the last time he still had a family: too young to experience this kind of social dance. And in his foster care group home he’d been more interested in gaining status among the boys than in learning about real life. It all had gone downhill when he’d got into trouble and had been put under Schmidt’s reign at fourteen. All chances for a normal life had been lost then, and Erik had been way more focused on trying to survive. The point was that how people behaved behind closed doors was mostly a mystery to Erik, pieced together from long ago memories and bits of TV programs.

Hopefully, Charles’s sister would chalk any odd behavior up to his lowly social status.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the bag. “Charles is getting ready and will be here in a minute.”

Erik turned when he heard the soft sound of the wheelchair rolling in. Charles looked radiant, with his hair still damp and curling slightly behind his ears, and with his face pinked from the heat of the shower. He really was quite stunning. Erik had seen many pretty boys and girls while working on the beach, but Charles had something both adorable and breathtakingly hot to his features that apparently made Erik do mad things, like accept dinner invitations or smile widely in response.

“I’m so glad you could make it. I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Charles said, wheeling closer.

“I wasn’t sure I’d come, either,” Erik said, honestly. “I don’t usually do this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raven said, pushing past them with plates of food balanced in her hands. “Like we believe you. You’re going to steal a lamp the second we turn our backs, aren’t you?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. She’s a bit overprotective, you see.”

“That’s okay,” Erik said. “I wouldn’t let myself into this house, either.” Why was he saying all those things?

Charles laughed and motioned for Erik to follow him out on the terrace, where the food was piled up on a marble table. He was seated with a glass of white, and served grilled asparagus with cherry tomatoes for the entrée. It looked quite delicious.

“So, where are you from, Erik?” Charles asked. “I’m guessing Germany?”

“Yes, Germany. You’re guessing right,” Erik said. “You? I can’t quite tell if you’re English or American.” It was best to bounce back conversation so no one would focus on him too much. He didn’t like to lie, and he guessed his life story was a bit too much for the privileged company on this balmy evening.

Raven motioned with her fork. “Charles here is a horrid snob, that’s why his accent is so posh. His father was English. Went to Eton, imagine that. But we were raised in upstate New York. And since Charles’s accident we’ve been living part time in Geneva and part time in London for the sake of his rehabilitation.”

The table fell silent. From what Erik assumed, rehabilitation was mostly done right after the accident once a patient was healed enough to start it. That would mean that Charles’s accident must have been recent, but Charles surely didn’t give the impression of someone just learning to adapt to life again. It was a delicate and personal subject, though, so Erik tried to divert the attention from Charles this time around. “And how long are you all here for?”

“Three more weeks,” Raven said, chewing on a stalk of asparagus.

To be settled somewhere like this apartment for a month or so—it meant that they really must be loaded, Erik thought.

Something dinged in the kitchen and Raven got up to fetch more food—baked bream, potatoes fried with herbs, and salad. Erik couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a meal quite like that—perhaps never. The evening went on quite smoothly, with Erik answering questions whenever he could and listening to the banter between Charles and his sister. Despite his reservations, it all was quite nice.

After two more bottles of white were opened, Erik’s pastries were put on a plate and they all moved onto the reclining couches on the other side of the terrace. Erik watched Charles transfer himself smoothly onto a low futon and arrange his legs effortlessly, the muscles of his freckled forearms dancing with tension in a way that made Erik feel a bit hot. He motioned to Erik to sit next to him, and Erik wasn’t going to object.

Raven brought a couple of joints and lit one of them, passing it to Charles. He took a shallow drag and offered it to Erik with his eyebrows raised in a silent question. It’d been ages since Erik last smoked, or did any drugs for that matter, but after a brief moment of indecision he shrugged and took a drag himself, coughing a bit when the acrid smoke entered his lungs. He leaned back on the couch, feeling Charles’s body heat next to his.

“So, Erik from Germany,” Charles said, smiling. “Are you saving up for college here or what?”

College was something so out of Erik’s league that he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling before answering, “No, just trying to save up enough to move to the States or at least the UK after the summer.”

“Oh,” Charles said. “Any plans on what you’d be doing there?”

“No,” he said and fell silent. No plans. Erik’s only plan was to get as far away from Mr. Schmidt and his _Correctional Institution for Troubled Youths_ as possible.

The conversation was slowly deteriorating along with the spliff being passed among them. Raven was telling some story that sounded hilarious, but it had so many digressions that Erik couldn’t keep up. And Charles—Charles, as inebriated as he was, was still fit enough to discuss politics with Erik, of all things. Erik found him quite passionate about some issues, and while he disagreed with most of Charles’s idealistic views, he had to admit that Charles’s way of arguing was making him rethink a few issues he never thought he’d have doubts about.

It was getting late when Charles made a move to get up and pulled his chair over to the futon. “I’m very sorry, but I need to keep a kind of routine, and so, as much as I’d love to stay up to chat more, I need to go to sleep now,” he said.

Erik understood, but he still felt an almost physical pain of disappointment. He could sit and talk to Charles all night. Perhaps his feelings showed on his face because Charles rushed to amend, “But I’d love to see you again. Will you be at the beach tomorrow?”

“Where else?” Erik sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to a long day of meaningless work tomorrow morning, especially after such a decadent evening.

“Good!” Charles smiled brightly. “Then I’ll come by in the morning and maybe after your shift we could go get a coffee together?”

He was asking Erik out. And Erik found in himself that he desperately wanted to be asked out by this impossible, politically idealistic, charming boy.

“Okay,” he said, and stood up to say good night to everyone and go back to his place.

He probably shouldn’t have agreed. He didn’t do this. He didn’t do coffee dates and dinners with rich boys, and chatting about politics and smoking weed on a terrace while sipping Soave. His life was finding jobs that wouldn’t ask for papers, cleaning floors and waking up in the middle of a night drenched with sweat, screaming, because Schmidt haunted him even in his dreams.

 

*

CHARLES moved to his bed, sighing with relief when he arranged himself in a more comfortable position. His whole body always ached all over after days like today. Why people would think wheelchairs were comfortable he couldn’t fathom. He could never wait to transfer himself to something softer. When earlier in the evening he’d reclined on the terrace, he hadn’t even cared that getting up would be a pain in the arse. His upper stomach muscles were mostly useless, and pulling himself up always required some uncomfortable wriggling and quite a lot of arm-straining. Thankfully, Erik watched Charles as if everything Charles did was just…normal. It was uncommon, as usually people either fussed over Charles, rushing to help him, or carefully avoided his gaze, pretending he wasn’t there while they observed him curiously when they thought he wasn’t looking. Erik’s focus felt completely different. For the first time since the accident Charles felt more like a _man_ than a _handicapped_ man. There was no “oh, you’ve such a pretty face, it’s a shame you’re in a wheelchair” in Erik’s gaze. Instead Charles felt attractive in a way he thought he’d never feel again.

He fell asleep to the memory of the intense gaze of greenish eyes, and slender fingers curving elegantly over a glass of wine.

Charles’s morning routine took forever, and as he impatiently worked through the familiar motions he kept replaying in his mind the previous night’s conversations, Erik’s replies, Erik’s frowns and guarded smiles. He was anxious and happy to see Erik again. He both couldn’t wait to talk to him and dreaded the moment, for he wasn’t sure if the previous evening hadn’t been less than he’d read into it. Perhaps Erik wasn’t interested at all. Perhaps it was just the wine and the weed, and what Charles had taken as Erik’s attraction was just Erik being relaxed and a bit flirty?

When he got to the beach, alone this time since Raven decided to stay by the pool at their villa, Erik was already chopping fruit and filling containers with ice. Charles waved to him and Erik waved in reply but then moved back to his tasks, with the now familiar frown on his face.

Charles sighed, took out his book, and prepared for yet another long day on the beach—sweating, shuffling as much as he could to avoid sitting in one position and risking sores, and wishing he could get up from the sticky chair. From his place he could observe Erik moving around and doing his job in an elegant and efficient way, silently and without stopping even for a brief moment.

Around three in the afternoon, an attractive if bulky man with skin tanned almost red came into the bar. “Control is coming,” he said with a strong Russian accent. “Be back here later,” he added, and he nodded to Erik, who dropped everything he had in his hands and made himself scarce, vanishing as if into thin air.

Before Charles could wonder what was happening, two officials came in, showed their badges, and then went to the back of the bar with the bulky man. Erik returned to his post about an hour after the officials left, as if this was a perfectly normal part of his daily routine. But Charles hadn’t seen Erik take a break in all the days he’d been here, and he watched Erik rush through his duties, as if making up for the time he’d been absent.

Charles’s back ached. His head throbbed with yet another headache, and by the time the bar closed at six he was so tired he wasn’t sure he was still up for coffee, even with Erik. Another hour of sitting up felt very much like torture.

Erik plopped next to him on a bench with two plastic cups of ice tea. “Christ, it’s hot today,” he said. “Here.” He pushed one of the cups in Charles’s direction.

The tea was good—fruity and blissfully cold. “Thank you.” Charles smiled.

Erik took a sip of his drink and closed his eyes for a moment. “I rarely do this, but today feels like a good day for a swim. Care to join me?” he asked.

Technically Charles could. Raven had picked this beach specifically for its access for disabled people. But as much as he knew that diving into the sea would be pleasant, relaxing and even therapeutic, he couldn’t bring himself to undress here and fuss with all the equipment needed to get him into the water. “Ah, you go and I’ll wait here.”

Erik looked at him quizzically as if he could tell what Charles was thinking.

“You know…” he started. “You could piggyback on me if you want. I’m sure I can handle your weight.”

Charles’s first reaction was to decline. He opened his mouth to say “no,” but then he thought about it.

“No pressure, though,” Erik said, standing up already and taking his shirt off. Charles swallowed hard because underneath the shirt Erik’s body was hard and lean, as if carved from marble.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Erik nodded. “Positive.”

“Okay, then.” Charles took off his T-shirt and tried not to panic.

Erik kneeled in front of the wheelchair with his back to Charles, who wrapped his arms tightly around Erik and allowed himself to be pulled up. Erik hooked his hands underneath Charles’s knees and started running towards the sea.

It was crazy. Impossible. Quite wonderful. For all the people on the beach who hadn’t seen Charles earlier, they might have been just another couple of friends frolicking about. Erik’s body was hot and hard underneath Charles’s.

Erik pushed through the waves and into the sea and soon they were deep enough for Erik to release Charles in the water. It was amazingly cool and the salt made it easier for Charles to keep afloat, even though he still felt Erik’s light support underneath one of his arms.

“My God,” Charles said and choked a little on it, averting his face so Erik couldn’t see his sudden meltdown. “So nice.” _Nice_ was an understatement.

Erik grinned at him, a great, incredibly wide grin that almost showed his wisdom teeth.

“Told you it was a good idea,” he said. “Are you all right with me releasing you?”

Charles was tempted to say “no” and stay for a while longer in Erik’s arms, close like a lover making out with his boyfriend in the water, but he nodded, and a second later Erik pushed himself further from Charles before diving into the sea and coming up shaking water from his hair like a dog.

“Wow, aren’t you a little otter?” Charles laughed, still delighted because he felt light and cool and just so good he could burst with the feeling. He swam for a while, enjoying the waves and the release the swimming brought to his tense back muscles. When Erik surged out of the water straight in front of Charles’s face, he laughed again and splashed water at Erik too. For a moment they observed each other. Erik’s eyelashes were wet, clumped together into dark shiny stars, making the greyish green color of his eyes even more vivid. He had light freckles on his face, and his wet hair gleamed with a slightly reddish hue. He was watching Charles just as intently, his gaze falling constantly to Charles’s lips. Would it be wrong to kiss, Charles thought? He’d known Erik only for a day and a half, but he couldn’t deny the incredible pull of attraction he felt towards him. And who cared? He was on holidays. Wasn’t summer vacation suited for passing flings and romances? He licked his lips.

In the end it was Erik who closed the last few inches and brought his lips to Charles’s. The kiss was wet and salty. It felt warm and sweet, filled with the promise of more to come. Erik’s arm snaked around Charles, holding him up and bringing him closer and, oh God, they were making out in the water for real.

Charles was overwhelmed with so many conflicting emotions his heart was racing in his chest, pounding so hard he was sure Erik could feel it where their bodies were pressed to each other. He’d kissed his share in life, but that was all before the accident. Then he’d had other matters on his mind more pressing than flirting, and suddenly now he was himself again, upright and almost matching Erik’s height here in the water—an equal, someone desirable and wanted.

They kept kissing, deeper and more urgently, and Charles was sure that if he pushed his hand underneath the waves he’d touch Erik’s hard cock.

When they stopped for a moment they were both breathless. Erik’s lips were red and slightly swollen from the kiss, his pupils dilated and cheeks reddened.

“I…” Erik said. “I don’t usually…”

It seemed like words eluded him, and Charles pulled him back into a kiss. He was vaguely aware of the surroundings, of the threat of Raven finding him like this and making a speech aimed at protecting Charles from being hurt, but he couldn’t care less about it all. He rode the feeling of bliss and arousal tangled together and prayed for the moment never to end.

Erik finally drew back. “We should probably go back ashore. It’s getting late.” The sun was slowly descending, and the rocky shore with a huge hotel on the top obscured its rays, filling the small beach with shade.

“Yeah. Yeah, we should,” Charles said.

“Hang on.” Erik turned, maneuvering Charles onto his back again.

When he let him down into his wheelchair, both of them were dripping water, and Charles was slightly trembling—whether from the cold, exertion, slight muscle spasms, or his emotions being all over the place, he couldn’t say. Erik brought them towels and Charles wrapped himself in one. His chair was wet, but that was fine; it would dry later.

“I think I’ll need to go to the apartment to change if we still want to go get that coffee,” Charles said. He wasn’t sure what Erik expected out of all this. He could only hope that Erik was into him enough to want to hang around for a few hours longer.

“Okay,” Erik said. “I’ll go change too, and I can come over to your place so we can go together.” He paused for a moment. “That is, if that’s all right with you?” He looked just as uncertain as Charles felt.

“Yes.” Charles smiled and looked up into Erik’s eyes. It was very all right with him.

 

 

*

ERIK sat on his bed and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. He must have gone totally insane. There was no other explanation for his actions earlier that day. It was bad enough he went to that dinner. But today’s activities were strict lunacy. He was not here to kiss pretty boys and splash with them in the sea. His goal was to work, earn money, save it, and be gone as soon as he could. His legal status wasn’t making matters easier. It was only because of Azazel’s good contacts that Erik hadn’t been found out today during a routine immigration check in the bar. He couldn’t rely on his manager’s good will forever, though. Every situation like this was setting Erik back by a considerable amount of money he couldn’t afford to lose. He needed to move from here and fast.

Still, he couldn’t deny himself another evening with Charles. It’d been so long since he’d relaxed in anybody’s company that he yearned for those moments, carefree and easy and astonishingly hot. The way Charles’s body had felt under Erik’s fingers, the way Charles’s lips had yielded under Erik’s—it was exquisite, impossible, exhilarating. He had to know how it felt to have even _more_ of Charles. He just…

What scared Erik even more was that he didn’t desire Charles in a purely physical way. Somehow during that day and a half they’d spent together he’d become infatuated, and deeply so. He’d never felt anything even resembling this mad need to be close to somebody like he did with Charles. In fact, he’d never even trusted anyone deeply enough to let his guard down. Deep inside, Erik thought he despised people; the institution had taught him to see people as petty, selfish and false, with their hidden agendas and interests. With Charles—he couldn’t find a single egoistic move on Charles’s part, and that made Erik both wary and fascinated.

He threw on a clean T-shirt, dry beach shorts, and slipped on his flip-flops. The luxury apartments of the villa weren’t too far away, and Erik could walk that distance and use the time to think. He was worried that his sudden crush was going to distract him from more pressing matters, make him careless and push him off course. He needed to leave France, and soon. But he couldn’t deny himself a bit more of Charles. One kiss would never be enough.

When he buzzed the intercom no one answered, and for a moment Erik thought that maybe he’d been stood up. But just as he was about to buzz once more the door opened and Charles wheeled out.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling his warm smile that made Erik feel as if his breath had been punched out of him. “I thought we could go straight away. Are you hungry?”

In fact, Erik was. But then again, he was always hungry, and he’d learnt long ago that the best way to beat this feeling was to ignore it. “A bit,” he said, and he leaned down to kiss Charles briefly on the lips.

He knew it was unwise to continue with this. Charles didn’t even know who Erik really was. They didn’t even know each other’s surnames, for fucks’ sake. But maybe it didn’t matter? Charles would be gone within the next three weeks, and Erik would soon be out of here too, so who cared if they had a little summer fling? And sure, Erik had zero experience in that sort of thing, but perhaps none was actually needed.

They walked to the promenade by the sea, where tons of restaurants and bars were luring  tourists in with menus on display and waiters inviting them in. Erik couldn’t afford to spend money in such a place, so he motioned to one of the kebab stands, hoping it wouldn’t be beneath Charles to eat something like that, and to his surprise Charles’s face lit up with delight.

“Can we go eat by the sea?” he asked.

They ordered cans of cold juice and pita bread stuffed with all the goods, and then went towards the end of the promenade to picnic on the stone steps leading to the beach.

“This is delicious,” Charles said, licking his fingers of the yoghurt sauce dripping from the sandwich. “I love how they’ve stuck the chips inside!”

“Isn’t it?” Erik agreed, chewing. “You mean the fries? Yeah, you’d think that the bread part would be enough in terms of carbs, wouldn’t you? But then—bam—there’s this bonus!”

Charles put aside his uneaten part. “God, I’m full.” And when he glanced at Erik licking the last bits out of his paper wrapper, he motioned to his portion. “Help yourself if you want. I can’t eat too much, really.”

Erik felt a bit awkward finishing up Charles’s sandwich, but then again, he’d learnt to never say no to free food. He inhaled the rest of the pita bread and then leaned back on his forearms and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of a full stomach for the second time in as many days. It was relaxing and strange, being next to a person you didn’t have to be on guard around.

“We should get some dessert! Maybe ice cream?” Charles said. But he didn’t make a move to unlock his chair, even when Erik hummed his agreement.

“How did you learn to speak English so well?” Charles asked.

Erik exhaled. “Let’s say I had a very strict teacher. And a good incentive. Also, I kind of enjoyed learning languages—English, French, Spanish.” He didn’t tell Charles this was all part of his plan to escape. He didn’t want to start telling stories of his miserable childhood.

“I’m shit with languages,” Charles admitted. “Had so many good teachers, but my French is horrid, and I haven’t even tried learning any others. Perhaps you could teach me German? Or more French?” He said it in a flirty, suggestive way that made Erik first look at him with surprise and then laugh aloud.

“What are you good at, then?” he asked, a bit teasingly.

Charles smiled. “Oh, you’d like to know. Maybe I’ll show you later.” His gaze was so intense that it made Erik’s groin heat up. But then something like a dark cloud washed over Charles’s features, as if he remembered something and he shrugged. “Genetics? Psychology. It’s my major. I’ll be finishing my PhD next semester.”

Erik looked up. “Wow, really? Aren’t you a little too young to be called doctor?” He smiled.

“I had a lot of spare time after…” Charles motioned to the chair.

Erik was curious how and when it had happened, but it felt rude to ask. Besides, Erik’s knowing wouldn’t really change anything. “You mentioned something about ice cream,” he said, standing up to get the crumbs off his T-shirt.

The price of the huge portions of Haagen-Dazs that Charles bought for them most probably exceeded Erik’s weekly wage, but he wasn’t going to protest. All he could focus on was Charles’s pink, pink tongue as he licked the caramel from his spoon. All he could hear was Charles telling him a hilarious story about Raven trying to buy bread by the kilo and ending up with a hundred packages of buns. Erik found himself responding to that and recalling a crazy hotdog seller from Berlin. He stopped mid-sentence.

He was drowning and he had to save himself. He had to shake this off.

He had to run away.

But when Charles asked him if he wanted to come over for a bit to Charles’s place because Raven was out clubbing with a bunch of English people she’d met on the beach, Erik said yes.

 

*

CHARLES had to admit that Raven’s timing was quite perfect, because otherwise he wouldn’t able to make out with Erik for what felt like _hours_.

“What can we do?” Erik asked, and Charles was so bloody grateful that Erik hadn’t just assumed that sex was out of question, or worse—that everything could be just as with a fully functional person—that he had to kiss him again.

“Are you trying to distract me?” Erik smiled. “It’s working.” He kissed Charles deeper, pushing himself over and onto Charles a bit—a nice weight on Charles’s chest, with pressure just enough to be cherished and not too much to be uncomfortable.

“Can I blow you?” Charles asked, flushing as he met Erik’s gaze.

Erik’s head fell onto Charles’s shoulder. “My God,” he said. “Are you trying to kill me?” And when Charles didn’t answer, because he was smiling, Erik added, “You aren’t expecting me to say no to that question, are you?”

Charles bit his lip and reached to open Erik’s jeans, one button after another. He pushed them down, along with the boxer briefs, and then arched his eyebrow when Erik’s cock sprang out of confinement, hard and darkened, his cockhead already glistening with precome.

Erik stood up to shuck the jeans and then got back on the bed, straddling Charles.

“I really, really want to blow you,” Charles said, feeling his heart rate picking up.

He put his hands on Erik’s hips and directed him up and above his head. It had been so long since he’d last done this that he almost choked up on the emotion. He licked his lips again and then pulled on Erik’s hips a bit to bring him closer to his mouth. He practically moaned at the first taste. He’d never thought that he’d miss being on the giving end of oral, but now he was trembling with tension and joy.

Erik’s cock was gorgeous—long and thick, almost perfectly straight, and cut in a way that didn’t affect the shape of its round head, shiny with Charles’s spit now.

“Oh, fuck,” Erik said, and his eyes fluttered shut. He reached with his hand to Charles’s hair and then stopped mid-motion as if restraining himself from taking over.

Charles let out Erik’s cock with a slurpy pop. “You can fuck my face if you want.” He grinned.

Erik’s cock throbbed in front of his face and he leaned to take it into his mouth again. He swirled his tongue around the head and then took Erik as deep as he could only to release him completely again.

“I mean it,” he said.

Erik’s hand finally made its way to Charles’s hair, while he gripped the head of the bed with the other to stay upright and not thrust into Charles’s mouth too deep. He pulled lightly on Charles’s hair, making Charles stop for a moment, and moan, because _oh God_. This was something Charles hadn’t thought he’d feel again without the aid of gazillions of technical devices. Erik seemed to notice the effect it had on Charles because he strengthened his grip and pulled again, inducing yet another moan from Charles.

“You’re…” Erik swallowed and started once more. “You’re so fucking hot.” His hand drifted to Charles’s face, ghosting over the cheek and the corner of Charles’s lips where they were stretched around Erik’s cock.

And then Erik really did it—he held Charles’s head in his firm grip and fucked him, hard and fast, but not too deep, not so Charles would choke.

Charles wanted to feel Erik’s seed in his mouth. He knew he was reckless with the lack of protection, especially because he didn’t really know much about Erik, but he wanted it like nothing else. A second later, though, Erik withdrew suddenly and came into his cupped hand, depriving Charles of that. He then wiped the come in his discarded underwear.

“Can I touch you?” Erik asked when his breathing evened out, and he scooted down to stroke Charles’s bare chest lightly. “What do you like?”

The thing was that… Charles wasn’t sure. Some places hurt where the skin was over-sensitized. Some other parts of his body were slowly getting back to “normal.” And some were just numb, as if not there.

“I liked the hair pulling earlier,” he said, just to say something before the silence got too uncomfortable.

“Did you, now?” Erik asked with a cat-like smirk, but didn’t make any motion to proceed with it. Instead he lay next to Charles and started tracing lines along Charles’s chest. “And this?” he asked, thumbing Charles’s nipple gently.

Charles jerked away. “Yes,” he said. “Just, not that light.”

“Like this?” Erik pressed the flat pad of his finger to Charles’s nipple and stroked.

Charles jerked again, but for a totally different reason. “Yes.”

Erik’s tongue on Charles’s other nipple was warm and flat too. Charles closed his eyes and let himself feel it without watching it, without second-guessing.

“May I take your pants off? Touch your cock?” Erik asked, and Charles stilled.

He’d come to terms with so many things, he was quite sure that he’d be okay in a situation like this. But now he was nervous. Getting his shirt off had been one thing; even despite the scars from the accident and various medical procedures he was quite all right with it. He’d built enough upper body muscles to at least not feel too self-conscious about it. But below his waist, that’s where the problems mounted.

For one, there were all the medical additions, like his catheter. Now, he wished he didn’t have the catheter. He didn’t want Erik to see him like that.

“Next time,” Erik said lightly, when Charles almost made a move to push his pants down despite his reservations. “Let’s just…” He palmed Charles through the fabric. “You’re hard.”

“Am I?” Charles breathed out. It was odd. He’d gotten hard before, but it had to be induced. Obtaining a sample of semen in those first months after the accident to keep Charles’s sperm in pristine condition in case he wanted to have children had required a painful procedure involving a vibrator that looked more like a hair straightener or a flute than a sex toy. And it hadn’t given Charles any feeling of real completion. The ghost of an orgasm hurt more than gave pleasure, and left him exhausted and frustrated. It wasn’t something he yearned to repeat now.

But Erik moved up again, kissing and stroking Charles’s chest with his gentle, elegant fingers. He bit one side of Charles’s neck, and when Charles gasped he licked it over, blowing some air on it only to bite again.

Erik’s thumb brushed over the scar on his collarbone, one of the many scars on Charles’s body, and suddenly Charles almost felt it—the hint of a real orgasm, a tension mounting.

“Ah,” he said, and Erik looked up, a question in his eyes. He smiled and leaned over to lick Charles there, tongued him hard while he was massaging his nipples at the same time. If Charles could still feel below the injury in the way he had before the accident, he’d probably come on the spot, what with Erik still rutting and dry humping him, pressing down on his cock firmly.

Charles was almost floating, his heart racing and pulse thumping hard in his ears. And then Erik bit down, quite hard, and Charles saw white. His body arched and he _was_ coming, surprised and overwhelmed and maybe crying a bit. And no, it didn’t feel anything like _before_ , but that didn’t mean it wasn’t as good and earth-shattering as before.

“Did you just…?” Erik moved up to look at Charles’s face. “Are you all right?”

Charles smiled, but it came out lopsided so he covered his face with the back of his hand and tried hard to stop the tears and embarrassing sounds from coming. “I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out.

“Whatever for?” Erik asked, and when Charles was unable to answer, he covered Charles’s hand with his but didn’t tug on it, allowing Charles to have this moment of semi-privacy to get a grip on himself.

When Charles felt steady enough to uncover his face and open his eyes again, Erik leaned down and kissed him, his tongue cool on Charles’s puffy lips. “It’s just,” Charles managed in between the kisses, “that I haven’t… I didn’t think I could still feel like this.”

Erik was silent for a moment longer, and then he took Charles’s hand and kissed the inside of his palm, where it was rough from the wheelchair calluses. “Then I’m privileged to be here,” he said.

And there Charles went, crying again and laughing at himself at the same time.

*

ERIK felt oddly light when he left Charles’s apartment that night. They’d parted after more kissing when it had gotten so late that the girls had already come back and Erik was sure he’d oversleep for work tomorrow. Theoretically, he could take a day off, but there was still the issue that he needed the money. He didn’t envy Charles his wealth so much as his independence. Nonetheless, he was lucky that Azazel was a good enough friend to not only hire Erik without the needed permissions, but to also not mind that Erik had a juvenile record. He paid Erik fairly too, and let Erik sleep in that rented-out room almost for free.

Erik stripped, took his towel, and went to take a shower. He could have done it in Charles’s apartment, but he could see that Charles was tired and anxious to be left alone to go about his nightly routines, so Erik hadn’t dared to linger. He smiled at the memory of Charles’s body, soft and wiry underneath him, and felt a rush of arousal. He gripped his cock, lathering it up for slickness, and stroked himself, slow and steady with images of Charles’s parted lips, and Charles’s wide blue eyes, and Charles’s beautifully muscled forearms.

He came hard, painting the shower wall with his come, surprised that he was so desperate for it even after that incredible blow job Charles had given him earlier.

He’d never cared much for sex. In the institution, under Schmidt’s reign, sexual services were a valuable commodity, if you had a good mouth or were willing to take it up the arse and knew for whom to bend. Erik had learned early enough what he could obtain for a good sucking, or when he should punch someone in the face instead. He’d used that knowledge wisely, climbing up the social ladder of the institution. Somewhere along the way, though, he’d lost any real interest in sex. There was no intimacy in the institution, and he’d come to think of sex as part of a transaction, nothing more. He’d masturbated when he needed to, but only for the purely physical relief of tension.

With Charles… With Charles everything was different. Maybe it was because with Charles Erik didn’t have to fear that he’d be flipped over and fucked hard and brutally; maybe it was because Charles was so idiotically beautiful; or maybe it was just because for the first time in Erik’s life, sex wasn’t a means to an end in an exchange but was just…for pleasure.

He came back to the room yawning, so tired that his whole body was almost buzzing, but he couldn’t fall asleep for quite a long time. Images of Charles tangled in his mind with his wishes and goals, and piled on top of the thoughts of everyday chores, like remembering to fetch bags of ice on the way to the beach. It was already light when Erik finally managed to sleep, and even then his dreams were a dark jumble of worries: Erik walking through long grey corridors, opening door after door, hoping to find a way out of the building but unable to do so. Every door led him back to the institution again, and to Schmidt’s figure looming in the darkness.

He woke up still knackered, tasting the sleep in his mouth, and dressed quickly, throwing a jumper on, for he was shivering with cold. The beach at dawn was empty if you didn’t count the early cleaning crew and some hard core kitesurfers using the early hours of the morning to avoid crowds of swimmers.

Erik unzipped the covers for the coffee machine and set out the shakers and blenders.

“Zdrasti, Erik,” Azazel said, entering the bar and putting the supply boxes down. “Cigareta?” He extended a pack of cigarettes towards Erik, who normally didn’t smoke but felt like a bit of nicotine would do him good right now. He took one and lit it using Azazel’s lighter.

“So,” Azazel said. “When you go?”

Erik shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Few more weeks, I guess. I should stay till the end of the summer.”

Azazel nodded. “Good.” He clapped Erik on the back. “Good.”

Erik would love to move on earlier from here, but it could have been so much worse. He could still have been within Schmidt’s reach. He shivered at the thought. Technically, Erik was an adult now and wasn’t under Schmidt’s jurisdiction anymore. That had ended six months ago when Erik turned eighteen, but everyone knew that Schmidt had his ways of controlling his ex-pupils and using his power over them to get what he wanted. And while Schmidt would never touch a student directly (he was way too smart to do such thing), he exerted his extended control through other boys—boys who could obey the most disgusting orders. Sometimes Erik wondered if Schmidt didn’t watch them secretly, getting off on the rapes and fights he was supposed to prevent. He was never quick enough to break them apart when they happened in his presence. He’d just walk, slowly, with that sly expression on his face and his eyes slightly gleaming, as if he was cataloguing and committing to memory every single second of the spectacle. But then again, Schmidt probably had everything filmed, the sick bastard.

The point was, Erik was not going to be another boy who’d work for Schmidt after, tangled in Schmidt’s clever net of favors and blackmail, serving his half-legal businesses, or smuggling drugs and so on. As soon as Erik had been released from the institution he’d vanished, not applying for any “help” the system offered to juveniles like him. Help came at the price of doing favors for Schmidt. It was a vicious cycle. If only the visa weren’t such a problem, and if only he had enough money, he’d flee to the States, or Australia, or New Zealand. He really didn’t care much where, as long as he could be far away. He didn’t have any living relatives. He didn’t really have _anybody_ and he wasn’t attached to any place.

As it was, he’d had to make do with hitchhiking to France first, and hoping for London when the summer was over. Provided he’d earned enough by then so he could have a buffer before finding another black market job. He was close to his goal, but savings couldn’t hurt.

As he worked Erik kept glancing towards the empty place that he now thought of as Charles’s. It was still pretty early and most probably Charles was still sleeping after the previous night, Erik thought, smiling at the thought of Charles being all lazy and disheveled in bed.

When Charles finally appeared in the afternoon, smiling sheepishly, wearing an intense blue shirt the color of his eyes and pretending he wasn’t distracting Erik on purpose, Erik almost dropped a crate of pink Lorina lemonade he was holding.

“Pizza?” Charles asked after Erik’s shift was over, and Erik couldn’t argue with such a good idea.

 

*

CHARLES reached out to pull Erik back into bed. “Don’t go yet.” He pleaded. “Can’t you stay a little longer? Or for the night?” Over the last two weeks it always ripped him in half when he had to see Erik leaving for the night.

“I can’t,” Erik said, looking as if he was breaking his heart along with Charles’s. “I’m working the early shift tomorrow.”

Charles pulled himself up on the pillows, watching Erik move around the room, gathering his clothes. “You’re always working the early shift. How come you work all the time? Is that even legal?”

“I need the money,” Erik muttered, pulling on his jeans.

“I get that,” Charles said. “But does it mean you have to work like a slave? What are you saving that much money for anyway? You said you didn’t need it for studies.” In fact, Erik was so guarded, that apart from a few very worrying snippets of his past that he let slip here and there during their conversations, Charles had only a very vague idea about Erik’s life.

Erik snorted. “Not everyone our age is a student, Charles.”

Charles wanted to kick himself for assuming and making Erik angry. “I know, but… I mean, you’re so well read and all, that I just assumed you were at some German university.”

Erik laughed, although he didn’t look very amused. Maybe he was embarrassed by his lack of education and didn’t want Charles to think less of him because of it? He rubbed at his face. “I… You live in a different world, Charles.” He sighed. “I’ve only ever finished Hauptschule. I don’t even have Abitur. It’s like your… I don’t know what, really. The point is, I can’t even think of getting into any university, even if I had money to spare. Which I don’t.”

While he was talking, Erik got more and more agitated and started pacing around the room, apparently not able to keep his irritation at bay as he continued, “But, unlike some privileged kids, I don’t think that failing some meaningless exam means the end of the world, or that grades determine the value of a person.”

“I’ve never said that!” Charles thought that Erik was being unjust—despite all his wealth, upbringing and education, Charles didn’t see himself as a snob, and would never think less of Erik for any of those reasons.

Erik stopped pacing and looked at Charles as if he was surprised by his own outburst. “I guess you didn’t,” he admitted.

“Well,” Charles said, not wanting to argue. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Erik took a few deep breaths and climbed back onto the bed with Charles.

“No. I’m sorry I yelled,” he said. “It was a dick thing to do. It’s just that I have more serious problems than education.”

Charles took his hand and rubbed his fingers along Erik’s. He tugged gently on Erik’s hand and Erik leaned over with a sigh, putting his head on the pillow next to Charles. In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the grey-green of Erik’s eyes was suffused with flecks of gold.

“You know that if I can help you in any way, you just need to say the word,” Charles said. He wished Erik would trust him enough to let Charles do something for him.

Erik’s cheeks reddened up. He made an attempt at whisking his hand out of Charles’s grip, but Charles’s hold got even tighter.

“I don’t need charity,” Erik said, almost gritting his teeth.

“I didn’t just mean money. Whatever you need. If it’s in my power to help you.” He was sure there wasn’t a situation that wouldn’t be able to be solved.

Erik exhaled, shook his head, and relaxed his hand in Charles’s grip. “Okay,” he said, closing his eyes.

He looked very tired. It was awfully late, so Charles decided to try one more time. “Will you stay?”

And to Charles’s surprise, Erik kissed him and said, “Yes, okay.”

Charles slowly released his grip on Erik’s hand and then moved his palm, bit by bit, to Erik’s fly. He started unbuttoning Erik’s jeans and slipped his hand inside to touch Erik through the fabric of his briefs. Despite Erik’s visible exhaustion, he felt Erik’s cock hardening again under his touch. Charles loved having sex just like that—in a lazy fashion, without any expectations, without a goal, without an agenda, just enjoying the slow build of Erik’s orgasm, and Erik finally shuddering in Charles’s arms.

Erik was already dreaming, his eyes dancing behind his eyelids, when Charles wiped him clean with a warm cloth.

“You shouldn’t have gotten up,” Erik murmured. “I’d have done it.”

“It’s all right,” Charles said. “I had to go to the bathroom anyway.” He moved around the bed, transferred himself to the mattress, and wriggled closer to Erik. “But now I don’t intend to move again before morning.” He kissed Erik on the neck and lay back, making himself comfortable for the night. It made Erik smile as he drifted back to sleep.

Erik’s phone alarm beeped at 7:00 a.m. and Charles groaned, gripping the edge of the bed to roll himself onto his stomach. “Go away,” he mumbled when Erik mused his hair. “M’sleeping.”

Erik reluctantly got out of bed, leaving Charles sprawled in the middle and yawning sleepily.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Charles said when Erik offered to make breakfast.

Still feeling half asleep, he transferred himself to the chair and went to the bathroom to take a shower. He’d go about his other morning activities later, after Erik left, but for now he wanted to enjoy this one breakfast with Erik. He rolled towards the kitchen with his hair still wet, legs still bare, feeling beautifully rested and relaxed, but he stopped dead when he heard raised voices from beyond the door. He peeked inside to see Raven standing against the fridge with a stern look on her face.

“I know what you’re doing,” Raven said gloomily.

Erik pointed to the eggs in his hand. “Making scrambled eggs?”

But Raven was watching him with narrowed eyes and without amusement. “If you hurt Charles I swear I’m going to hurt you more.”

“Why would I want to hurt Charles?” Erik asked warily, putting the eggs and butter on the countertop.

“Because you are a criminal and you’re using Charles for his money. And God knows we have enough to share, but Charles has been wounded enough. I won’t let him risk even more heartache from you. If he suffers because of you, I’ll make sure you go back to the exact place you came from.”

Erik froze. “What?”

“I looked into your past. Found your former guardian. He seemed very interested in how you’ve chosen this hobo life here instead of trying to make something of yourself. He said he’d expected more from you.”

Erik moved as fast as light. He grabbed Raven by her arm and pushed her to the wall. Her back collided with the surface with a dull thud.

“You bratty, spoiled girl,” he hissed into her face. “You have no idea what you’ve done.” She was watching him with fear. After a moment Erik released her, took a few steps back, and then ran out of the kitchen. He stopped when he saw Charles in the hall, but then moved past him. He went out of the apartment through the staircase instead of the lift, slamming the door behind him.

Charles’s heart was beating so hard he almost couldn’t breathe. He moved to the kitchen where Raven still stood still with her back against the wall.

“What was that about?” Charles demanded.

Raven snarled, “Did you know that your summer boy has a criminal record?”

“What?” For a moment there Charles didn’t know what Raven was talking about, and when he realized what she meant, he felt fire seeping into his veins. “How do you know that?”

“I asked Moira to look him up as a favor, because there was something shady about him from the very beginning. Your precious Erik is a felon. He was in a correctional institution for youths in Germany, and from what Moira could gather, he was there for numerous crimes. He doesn’t even have permission to leave Germany. That’s what his supervisor told me when I called him.” Raven looked both agitated and oddly smug when she said all this, as if she was reveling in an “I told you so.”

All Charles could feel, though, was a terrible sense of betrayal. And not from Erik. “Why would you do that?” he asked as calmly as he could. “Who gave you the right to dig into Erik’s life?”

Raven glared at him. “You are so naïve. You’re vulnerable and he’s using you! It’s not you he’s after but your money! Don’t you find it strange he suddenly took an interest in you?”

“Why?” Charles asked, and there was that cold calmness to his voice that always indicated how furious he really was. His cheeks were on fire and he could feel his hands trembling. “Because I’m a cripple and no one would want me if not for my money?”

Raven almost recoiled at that. She was silent for a moment and then said quietly, “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

When Charles answered it was even softer because the anger had left him all of the sudden, leaving only bitter exhaustion in its stead. “I think you meant it exactly like that.” He turned his wheelchair around and wheeled out of the kitchen.

In his bedroom he moved to the window and looked outside, not really seeing anything. He needed to think. He refused to believe what Raven was implying. No. Erik wasn’t like that—so calculating and fake. There was no way the moments they shared weren’t real. Erik was such a guarded person, so closed and untouchable in many ways, but Charles couldn’t believe that behind that hard exterior lay something wicked and untrue. Charles could read between the lines, and he knew that Erik was running from something or someone and that for sure he was working here illegally, but he didn’t see much crime in it, really. After the previous night’s conversation and Erik’s proud refusal of help, Charles was even more convinced that Erik would not use him in any way. But Charles would do anything in his will to help Erik—whether Erik wanted it or not. He picked up his phone and dialed Moira’s number.

 

*

ERIK had packed all his belongings into an old duffel bag, left money for Azazel for the last week of rent, but he still went to the bar for his shift; he wasn’t going to stand everyone up just because he was scared. He was scrubbing the waffle pan furiously, letting his anger—at Raven, at the injustice of the world, at Schmidt for existing, and at himself for letting his guard down—direct his moves. This was why at first he didn’t realize his name was being called.

“Erik?” Angel came to the back of the bar. “There’s someone here for you.”

Erik stopped the scrubbing. “Charles?” he asked, although it was obvious that Angel would have just said so if it were Charles. She shook her head and lingered near the door.

“What?” Erik wiped his hands on a towel.

Angel shrugged. “Dunno. He just seems… not nice.”

Erik’s heart started pounding. Was it possible that he had been found so soon? When exactly had Raven talked to Schmidt? Was it one of his minions?

He slowly moved to the door and peeked outside.

“Fuck,” he said, feeling like all his blood had rushed somewhere to his feet, making him dizzy and nauseous.

Outside, wearing a flowery shirt and long slacks, stood Herr Schmidt himself, narrowing his eyes against the brightness of the southern sun.

There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Erik could either stay where he stood and risk being cornered if Schmidt decided to seek him out at the back of the bar, or he could man up and go face the enemy. He mustered as much calm and serenity as he could and stepped out of the shadows to face his nightmare.

“Erik, my dear boy,” Schmidt said in his precise English, his voice velvety smooth and his smile so polite one would almost be under the false impression of genuine joy. “What a surprise! I’ve been spending my holidays here, and I’ve just heard that you were working in this particular bar on my beach. Isn’t that a wonderful coincidence?”

“Quite,” Erik said. He balled his hands into fists and tried not to grit his teeth too much.

“Rude,” Schmidt tsked. “I just wanted to say hi and see how you were faring here. Judging by the marks on your neck, you are enjoying yourself.”

Self-consciously, Erik covered his neck with his palm. He knew that Charles had left a hickey there, but didn’t think anyone would notice. Leave it to Schmidt to focus on details like that.

Schmidt made a show out of looking around the bar. “My, why does such an intelligent boy like you work in a place like this? And doing what?” He pointed at the garbage bags behind Erik and tsked again. “You’d be so much better off under my protection back home, where you could cultivate your talents.”

Home. Erik would rather rip his tongue out with his bare hands than call the hellhole of the facility his home.

“I’m fine here,” he said, trying to come up with some plan of escape. “Did you want to order anything?”

“The lovely lady there,” Shmidt pointed to Angel, “is already getting my drink.” He took the rum with Coke and lime Angel served him and leaned on the counter, narrowing his eyes at Erik. When he spoke again it was with a threat in his voice. “I look forward to catching up with you later. I’ll be here all day.” He then turned and stepped down the deck, walking towards the shaded sunbeds.

Erik didn’t waste a minute. He went to the back, grabbed his bag, put it in a trash sack, and took out his phone to call Azazel to tell him he was leaving.

“I’m sorry,” he told Angel, “but I have to leave you alone for today. Azazel’s on his way. He’ll send Janos in later on for his shift.”

Angel shook her head and then wrapped her arms around Erik. “Okay, kitten. Good luck,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. He swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat.

He walked out of the bar, pretending he was taking the garbage out to the shed at the end of the beach road, and then quickly crossed the street. His heart was pounding. He didn’t have much time. There was a bus approaching the bus stop and he got on, not looking at the number or where it was going. Once on the bus he dug his duffel bag out of the trash sack and prayed that Schmidt wasn’t following him just yet.

It took him only one transfer to get to the railway station, where he bought a horribly expensive ticket to Paris since he couldn’t wait for the evening’s cheaper bus. He paced, anxiously counting the minutes till his departure. When the train finally moved from the station, he could exhale for the first time.

His phone beeped with messages—three from Charles that Erik didn’t dare open, and one from an unknown number. He tapped on this one and nearly dropped his phone.

_Knock, knock, Erik. Where did you go? You don’t think you can run from me, do you?_

“Fuck,” he said aloud, making an older lady sitting across from him in the train car scowl at him.

He took the SIM card out of his phone and threw it out of the train window. The old lady snorted with disgust. Erik could only hope that there was no possibility of tracking him via his phone alone without the SIM card inside. He wasn’t sure what was and wasn’t the truth about phones, based on the spy movies he’d seen. He’d buy a new prepaid card at the train station in Paris. For now he just had to sit and try to still his shaking hands, slow his breathing.

It was getting dark when the train rolled into the Gare-de-Lyon. Erik exited the train tired and very anxious, trying to decide what to do next. He bought a new number in a kiosk, entered the first open staircase, walked up to the top floor, and sat on the steps. He placed the new card into his phone, noticing that his hands had not stopped shaking at all. Perhaps he was just hungry. Or perhaps he was dehydrated; he couldn’t really tell.

It wasn’t until after he heard Charles’s voice on the line that he started crying, angry at himself for breaking down and wiping the tears away with the back of his palm.

*

CHARLES almost cried out with relief when he heard Erik over the phone. He’d been trying to reach Erik ever since he’d exited the kitchen in the morning, and he was going out of his mind with worry.

“Erik? Where are you?” he asked. He heard something that sounded very much like a stifled cry on the other end of the line. “I went to the bar but you weren’t there, and Angel told me you’d run away because someone was after you. Are you in danger?”

“Charles,” Erik said, choking on the word a little. “I’m so sorry. I’m... I did some things when I was younger, nothing too bad—I mean, I didn’t hurt anyone—I just… I wanted things and there wasn’t any money, ever, after my parents died, and I got caught stealing. The point is, I was in this fucking institution—a home really, not a facility for convicts—but it was a living hell. I’m out now, but the director’s been trying to blackmail me—he does this with everyone who ages out, not just me—but that’s not the point. The point is, I was hiding from him but he’s caught up with me, and I had to run.”

Charles’s mind was racing. He didn’t want to spook Erik by saying things he supposedly shouldn’t know, but during the hours between Erik’s disappearance and now, he’d managed to gather enough information to understand the situation. He decided he might as well go with honesty.

“Are you talking about Schmidt?”

There was silence on the other side, and then Erik said softly, almost inaudibly, “I don’t know how Raven found him or what he said, but whatever he told her about me is likely to be a lie. I’m not a monster. And I swear I haven’t been using you. I’m not after your money. I just… I just liked you.”

Oh, God, Charles thought. How was he going to explain to Erik that none of the things he’d learnt about him today mattered? If anything, they made him treasure Erik even more. “Erik, love, don’t worry. Please just tell me where you are. I’ll come get you, and we’ll figure something out together, all right?”

Erik’s answer was even more shaky than before. “I can’t pull you into this. Schmidt is very dangerous. It’s bad enough that he talked to Raven and that he has her phone number.”

Charles sighed. Perhaps he should disclose some things to Erik too. “Erik, I didn’t tell you everything about me and my background either. I don’t think your Schmidt is powerful enough to deal with the Xaviers. I have resources I can use. Let me help you.”

“You owe me nothing. I can’t ask you for your help, Charles. I can’t endanger you like this.”

Charles sighed. Perhaps he’d have to bare himself even further to convince Erik that he wasn’t doing it entirely for altruistic reasons. “Let me tell you something. Just promise me that this will never reach Raven. This whole holidays thing was her idea because she felt like it would cheer me up. Like, you know, if I could get back on track I’d be fixed and back to my old self again. But I came here just to indulge her. Because I won’t ever be my old self. What I mean is… Before meeting you I was convinced my life was over. I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t want to live anymore, not like this.” He motioned to his lower body even though Erik couldn’t see it. “I had everything planned, you know? This was my farewell to Raven, in a way.”

“Charles—” Erik’s voice was full of concern now, and Charles didn’t want it.

“I’m not proud of this. I know it’s me being a coward. But I just didn’t see any other option for me. And then you came along, and I found that I might have a future after all. I think… No, I feel… I’m in love with you. I want to continue this… whatever it is we’re doing. That is, if you want it.” Now he was babbling, but he didn’t want it to sound like he was coercing Erik into something. “I mean, even if you don’t want to, I know I’ll be fine now. You gave me something back and I’m so grateful for that. Now, would you please just tell me where you are so I can play the knight in shining armour and save your skinny arse?”

“Oh God,” Erik laughed, although it sounded a bit subdued. “I—fuck, Charles, you are—I want—” A train announcement muffled his words. “Paris. I’m at the train station in Paris. Gare-de-Lyon.”

“All right.” Charles exhaled. “All right. Let me find a safe place for you to stay for the night, okay? In the morning my friend Moira, who works for the CIA—don’t even ask—will come get you. She’ll have arranged papers for you, so you can move to the UK if you still want to move there. And then we’ll figure out what we should do next.”

“Is this even possible? How can you do such things?” Erik sounded unsure, or overwhelmed, Charles couldn’t really tell.

“Basically it’s because my father used to work for the government and because of the money, but I’ll tell you everything when we see each other again, okay? Is this the number I can reach you at now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. Let me hang up for a moment to arrange things. Don’t go anywhere, please. I’ll text you the address for a safe place to stay as soon as I can.”

After the conversation it took Charles a good few moments to focus enough to text Moira the essential details. He then opened up his laptop to search for any Airbnb place that would be free for the night. He didn’t want a hotel where they’d ask for documents, but a private apartment seemed safe enough. He found one, idiotically pricy for a small one-bedroom with kitchenette, but it was close enough to the station that Erik could walk there in five minutes, and it was available right away. He paid for the place, e-mailed the landlady that a young man would be coming within the next hour or so, copied all the details, and pasted them into a message for Erik.

Then he called for an immediate transport to Paris. No way in hell was he going to leave Erik alone with this mess.

 

*

ERIK was so exhausted and shaken during the call with Charles that he wasn’t even sure what he was agreeing to. All he could think about was that he should be running, but he didn’t know where to go anymore. But just a few minutes later a text came from Charles with an address. Erik stared at it until the phone screen went dark. It felt so weird to be cared for. He was so used to being self-sufficient, handling things his way, that for a moment he felt the need to defy Charles and find a place to stay the night on his own. But that would make Charles unhappy, and Erik realized that whatever he did, he just wanted Charles to be happy. The way Charles talked about his planned suicide, so calm and matter-of-fact… Erik just couldn’t stand it, that this cheerful boy, so full of life, like a ray of sunshine… That he could even think of it—it just couldn’t be. If he’d really saved Charles’s life, then maybe he should allow Charles to try to save Erik. Though he doubted anyone was powerful enough to stop Schmidt.

He checked the address Charles had given him on Google Maps and got up to walk there. On the way he bought a sandwich; he was almost swooning with hunger now that the adrenaline rush was slowly receding.

He was shown into a renovated apartment in an old building with a tiny elevator and a narrow staircase. The elderly lady who led him in instructed Erik on the usage of the kitchen appliances, gave him the password to the Wi-Fi, and then eyed him closely.

“Vous êtes sûr que tout va bien?” she asked.

Erik nodded and thanked her. He wasn’t fine but there wasn’t much that this lady could do for him. For now, he longed for a bed, and sleep.

She went to the door, and when Erik raised his hand to the knob, she put her hand on his. She had tiny, dry palms, wrinkled skin and fingers a bit twisted with age, like the grandma Erik remembered from his early childhood. “Tout va s'arranger, mon petit,” she said. Erik nodded, although he really wasn’t sure everything would work out. The old-fashioned endearment she used made Erik swallow hard. God, he really was having quite an emotional day.

“N'hésitez pas à m'appeler si vous avez besoin de quoi que ce soit,” the lady told Erik. He thanked her once more and closed the door.

He didn’t even look around the place, as tiny as it was, but headed straight for the bedroom, where a big, soft bed took up most of the space. He lay down on top of the covers in his clothes. He wanted to fall asleep; he was exhausted and disoriented, felt like he was still on the move. But the events of the day kept swirling in his head, keeping him from tipping over into oblivion—pushing Raven to the wall (he shouldn’t have done that), Schmidt’s laugh that made Erik want to vomit, the train, the phone call with Charles…

Finally, Erik gave up on his attempts to fall asleep and went to the bathroom, which was the size of a closet. He ran water into a very deep and very short bathtub. The hot water made his muscles relax and he felt somewhat better. He still didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep, though, so he put on a jumper and slipped outside onto a small balcony facing the Seine. The balcony was more of a porte-fenêtre than a real balcony, and there wasn’t much space to sit on, so he half-squatted and half-perched himself on the windowsill. He craved a cigarette, but he’d quit right after getting out of the facility, and perhaps starting again wasn’t the best idea.

All around him the city was alive and buzzing with noise the way only summer cities do. High above the street Erik felt very alone and insignificant. He was about to give up and go out to maybe actually buy some cigarettes after all, when a knock on the door startled him. His heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that Schmidt had found him already? He moved as soundlessly as he could to the door and pressed his body to the wooden surface, as if he could tell who stood on the other side just by feeling it.

There was some rustling behind the door, followed by another knock and Charles’s voice. “Erik? Are you there?”

Erik unlocked the door and opened it to see Charles in the corridor with his hand raised as if to knock again. He was wearing jeans and a black T-Shirt and looked somewhat disheveled, but he was smiling brightly at Erik.

“Oh, thank God, you’re here,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” Erik asked, too stunned to react kindly.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Charles said. “May I come in?”

Erik hold the door. “Of course.” He smiled. “You’re the one paying for it, anyway.”

“Moira will join us in the morning,” Charles told Erik as he was proceeding inside. He slowed to maneuver between the couch and a cabinet. “She’ll catch the early flight from London and will have most of the papers arranged for you by then. She says you’ll probably have to be under surveillance for a little bit so they can protect you while they sort the Schmidt issue. They hope your testimony will be enough to proceed with the investigation and press charges.”

Charles tried to roll into the small kitchen but it turned out to be too narrow for him to get in. “Bloody hell, this place is tighter than a virgin’s butt.”

“What do you need?” Erik asked, chuckling and squeezing himself past Charles into the kitchen.

“A drink,” Charles said.

“Water?”

Charles looked as if Erik had offended him. “Uh, no. Fuck it. See if there’s any booze in there.”

Erik searched around in the cabinets. “Well, there’s… is this Absinthe? Do people even drink this for real or is it like a tourist attraction?”

Charles made a face. “Don’t ask me—it’s you who worked in a bar. But I’m not _that_ desperate. I’m not putting anything with licorice in my mouth.”

Erik shook his head and looked into the fridge. “There’s a bottle of Champagne here. Actually, it looks like a legit one.” He showed the Mumm bottle to Charles.

“Oh, this will have to do, then.” Charles tried to turn around and got stuck again. “Fucking hell. I better stay away from this kitchen. Is there a bathroom?” He rolled to the hall and soon Erik heard more cursing. Erik found that he was amused and pleasantly distracted with Charles’s efforts to maneuver around the place.

“Erik?” Charles sounded a bit unsure.

“Yes?” Erik walked to the hall to see Charles still there, looking gloomily at the bathroom door.

“This is too narrow for me to get in.” Charles bit his lip. “I have an odd request. Could you… um. Could you help me with this? I’m so sorry—”

Before Charles could complete his apologies Erik nodded and scooped him up and out of the chair. Charles’s body was firm and warm in Erik’s arms, and it shot a surge of affection through Erik.

“Sorry,” Charles mumbled again.

“Do you see me complaining?” Erik asked, kissing Charles’s neck. “Now what?”

“Place me on the toilet. I have to empty this…” Charles’s cheeks were red. “And, oh God, this is so embarrassing. But could you help me with my pants? I’ll fall off this tiny seat if I start to wriggle them down without something to hold onto.”

Erik placed Charles on the toilet and scooted next to him to help him stay upright. He could practically feel Charles’s discomfort rolling off him in waves. “Do you want me to close my eyes?” he asked, and Charles smiled his gentle warm smile, the one reserved only for Erik.

“It’s all right,” he said. “But thank you.”

Erik felt a bit surreal in the silence of the bathroom with Charles in his arms going about his business, but he found that he also felt good—trusted, safe and cared for—despite the fact that in this very moment it was more him caring for Charles.

When Charles was ready, Erik picked him up again, but instead of placing him back in the chair he took him to the bedroom and placed him on the bed. “Let me get that champagne,” he said.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing here!” Charles shouted. “You’re kidnapping me to have your wicked way with me!”

“You see right through me!” Erik shouted back. “So, how did you get here so fast?” Erik asked, settling on the bed next to Charles with two glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other. Between the phone call and now, only something like three hours had passed.

“Plane.” Charles reached for one of the glasses. “Private jet to be exact. Couldn’t have your Schmidt following me on the regular one.”

Erik just raised his eyebrows.

For a moment they just lay in silence, sipping the champagne and resting.

“You could have told me about Schmidt earlier. I’d have helped,” Charles said after they’d drunk half the bottle. He settled the champagne on the bedside table and rolled to Erik.

Erik turned on his side to face Charles. “I didn’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t think you’d understand.”

This was one of the things he loved about Charles, that Charles wasn’t going to argue now, to question Erik’s judgement. He just nodded and was there for Erik, as if he were reading Erik’s mind and knew everything about him.

“Let’s not talk about this now,” Charles said, placing his hand on Erik’s cheek. “We’ll deal with everything later. For now…” He leaned to kiss Erik, soft and warm, and Erik kind of melted into the kiss, wanting it like he’d never yearned for anything in his life. Charles’s lips were so soft and full, and it felt like heaven to just kiss and kiss, their breath mixing together, tongues gently touching each other. Erik put his hand on Charles’s cheek too, mirroring Charles’s posture, and somehow this made the whole setup even more intimate. When his fingers slid down Charles’s face to the corner of his lips and Charles kissed Erik’s fingertips, it shot a pang of arousal through Erik’s body so hard he had to move, to push on Charles a little and settle half on him, rubbing himself on Charles.

Charles smiled. “Looks like you want me.”

“I always want you,” Erik said, and he kissed Charles deeper, pushing his tongue into the heat of Charles’s mouth. He rutted against Charles’s hipbone, wanting more friction, and almost cried out when Charles snaked his hand down Erik’s pants, wrapped his fist tight around Erik’s cock, and started stroking him.

“Come on, baby,” he said, and Erik was done for, coming while he was panting hard against Charles’s mouth.

Charles let him calm down, holding him through the aftershocks, and then reached for a tissue box placed on the nightstand. Erik thought that he should probably go and clean himself more thoroughly, but he was too tired, too boneless and sleepy, and he didn’t want to leave Charles’s warmth, so he let Charles wipe him as well as he could and settled down to hug Charles again.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Not tonight,” Charles said. “I’m way too tired. We’ll have all the time we want later, yes?”

And Erik thought that yes, in fact, he wanted this so fucking much—more time with Charles, indefinite time with Charles, actually. And perhaps it really was possible, if only Erik allowed himself to believe it.

“Yes,” he said. He tugged Charles closer and slipped his hand inside Charles’s T-Shirt, stroking him with his flat palm, the way he knew Charles loved. His hand reached the scars from the surgery and he quickly moved his fingers to avoid the over-sensitive flesh, but Charles didn’t seem disturbed. He snuggled even closer to Erik.

“It wasn’t anything huge and tragic, you know?” he whispered against Erik’s chest. “Really, just a moment of me and the other driver not being careful enough, I guess. I was on my motorcycle, coming from a meeting, and I didn’t see it—the car turning left when I was going straight. The irony is that I’ve always driven so fast, and on this day I was going something like 20, maybe 25. I don’t remember the hit but people said I flew out of the seat and landed on a lamp post. They took me to the hospital straight away. At first I had other injuries that were more important—my lungs, my stomach. Then I got sepsis and everyone thought I’d die. I was kept in a coma for days. That’s why the spine operation was postponed. When they finally had me fit enough for the back surgery it turned out that the cord wasn’t even severed, just… ‘Wrung out like a sock,’ they said. And—well—here I am.”

Erik wanted to tell Charles that it was all right, but clearly it wasn’t, and would never be all right. He could tell Charles that it wasn’t fair, but what good would that do? Everyone knew that life wasn’t fair. Not for Charles, not for Erik, not for anyone. So he stroked around Charles’s scar and hoped he was telling Charles without words what he couldn’t express.

It was so late that even the streets were quiet. Soon it would be dawn and the morning bustle would start, but in that moment Erik felt as if they were somewhere in space and time that was entirely theirs—just them, enclosed in this peaceful bubble. Charles’s breath was evening up as he was falling asleep, his fingers twitching lightly as he was drifting and his lips parted. But Erik was still alert. He leaned over and kissed Charles’s hair. “What you said on the phone earlier… I love you too.”

Charles sighed and turned his head, and suddenly in the grey light of the bedroom he looked so fragile and breakable. Erik wrapped his arm around Charles tighter and sniffed at Charles’s neck, feeling the peacefulness of Charles’s sleep wash over him. He’d think about everything else tomorrow. For now, his only objective was to stay close to Charles.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Just a disclaimer that I've never been in a relationship with a person with a spinal cord injury, but I tried to do my best to keep it as real as possible based on online research and my friend's experience. I wanted to thank him for all the input and for sharing even the most personal and difficult details about his everyday struggles as well as various hilariously mortifying anecdotes like falling out of his chair or his "adventures" with a catheter. I admire his strength and positive attitude despite the obstacles he's faced.


End file.
